War Stories
by SeaSpectre160
Summary: The team gathers and shares tales of adventures past, but not the kind you would expect from a group of world-saving warriors. Fourth in 'Long Way Home'.


**So yeah, this is just a little bit of light-hearted downtime for the team, set during the 1-week break between 'Star City 2046' and 'Marooned', and is mentioned in Chapter 7 of 'Dear Lisa'. Here's to all the parents, guardians, babysitters, and anyone else who's had to deal with the insanity that is the antics of young children.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I don't own Legends of Tomorrow. All the children mentioned are OCs.**

 **WORD COUNT: 1573**

* * *

"Are you serious?!" Kendra Saunders gasped.

"Yes!" Sara Lance insisted, "Blue paint all over the entire room, even on the _ceiling_! To this day, I have no idea how they managed that!"

"I think I can beat that. Danny Bentley, eight years old, back in… July of 2005. He'd just finished dinner, and his face was half-covered in spaghetti sauce, so he went to clean himself up. I figured he was going to do the reasonable thing and wash his face in the bathroom, and it's not like an eight-year-old needs to be supervised for that, so I let him go off and started cleaning up. The next thing I knew, there was a huge splash and the cat was making this _ungodly_ yowling noise, like…" She paused, before making a strange sound that sounded like a police siren mixed with nails on a chalkboard.

"What the _hell_ is that noise?" Leonard Snart's voice came from the doorway of the galley, and he poked his head in curiously, one eyebrow raised.

"The sound a cat makes when an eight-year-old jumps into a pool _with_ the cat." Kendra turned to Sara with an expression of 'Beat _that_!' on her face.

"And how did you get on _that_ topic of conversation?"

"We're trading babysitting 'war stories'," Sara explained, taking a fistful of potato chips from the bowl in between them, "But I still think the Miles Twins repainting their parents' room is the worst." Then she looked up at Snart. "Didn't you mention practically raising your little sister? Got any interesting stories to share?"

A huge smirk spread across his face, and he moved further into the room. "There _was_ the time I let Mick watch her when I had to work."

"Work?" Kendra questioned.

"Yes, Birdie, Dad was still in prison, so Lisa was in my custody. I had to stick with more honest means of income during that period, otherwise I'd risk losing her to foster care. Anyway, I had to work a late shift, so I dropped her off at Mick's apartment. She was about… six years old at the time, and you couldn't take your eyes off her for more than a minute, so I told Mick that he wasn't allowed to let his attention wander until she was asleep.

"I came to pick her up around midnight, and when Mick answered the door, I _knew_ he'd fallen asleep while she was still up, because she'd drawn all sorts of things all over his face and arms with her markers: hearts, butterflies, rainbows, anything you'd associate with a typical little girl. He didn't even notice until I pointed him to a mirror. And he hadn't even made sure she got her homework done."

Sara blinked. "And he slept through her entire 'art project'?"

"I know, I didn't believe it, either. He never let his guard down around her after that, though."

"Was there anything she did to torment _you_ , though?"

He paused, snagging some chips out of the bowl. "She was a little angel for me. The whole reason you couldn't take your eyes off her was because she was too curious, and she'd get herself hurt if she wasn't careful. But she didn't do anything too bratty when I was taking care of her. Except… her taste in music. She'd be as quiet as a mouse whenever Dad was home… it was always better if he forgot we were there… but when he was in prison or out on a job, she would blast her silly boy bands and other crap as loud as she could. I never should've given her that stupid boombox for her birthday."

"Laurel and I used to do that," Sara commented, "Except we could never agree on what to blast. Mom and Dad would have to put up with the music randomly switching until it degenerated into name-calling and hair-pulling."

"I've been there," Kendra interjected, "Jenny and Manny Brinks. I swear, they couldn't spend five minutes in each other's presence without getting into a fight. And still their parents thought it was a good idea for them to share a room."

"I knew a couple kids like that." All heads turned to see Jefferson 'Jax' Jackson standing in the doorway. "What are we talking about?"

"Babysitting horror stories," Kendra replied, "Do you have any?"

Jax shrugged. "I never babysat, but I did volunteer at a few kids' summer football programs. There was this one brat a few years ago… He came from a really rich family, would never listen to directions, bossed the other kids around, acted like a spoiled brat overall. When the head coach talked to his parents about it, they insisted that their son was a perfect little angel and that we were all just jealous of their family's class and high standing. Nothing was ever his fault, according to them, and he was obviously raised to believe that. Eventually we had to kick him out of the program when he _bit_ another kid. His parents were called to pick him up around noon, but they refused to come until four, when we always sent the kids home, and when they got there, they got into a huge argument with the coaches, and threatened to sue for the 'trauma' we'd inflicted on their baby. Meanwhile, the baby went and peed in all the helmets."

Kendra choked on a laugh, a few bits of her mouthful of chips flying out. She swallowed before blurting: "He _what_?!"

Len rolled his eyes. "And you people wonder why I don't feel bad about stealing from stuck-up rich people. _Someone's_ got to take them down a peg."

Sara smirked. "So, what, you're actually making the world a better place when you rob people?"

"Nah. But the satisfaction of taking what they think they earned simply by existing is almost as good as the score itself."

None of them bothered to argue, partly because there was no way they could convince him otherwise, and partly because they all didn't mind entitled snobs getting a kick in the ass from karma.

"So…" Jax asked, "How does that add up to your horror stories?"

"Pretty well," Snart admitted, "Think we should put it to a vote?"

"I think we should get an impartial judge," Kendra suggested.

Jax stood up. "I'll go find Gray." And he was out of the galley before anyone could even try to stop him. Luck was apparently with him, because he returned less than a minute later, dragging Stein into the room.

"Jefferson, w-what is the meaning of this?" Stein sputtered.

"We need you to settle a mild debate," Sara explained, "We've been comparing 'war stories', and we need an impartial judge to decide which is the worst."

Snart continued. "Sara's had to deal with twins repainting their parents' bedroom, Kendra's worst is a kid who apparently jumped into the pool with the family cat, my baby sister used Mick as an art canvas while he was sleeping…" He paused. "Now that I think about it, I guess my story's a pretty common one."

"She drew hearts and butterflies all over _Mick Rory_ ," Sara reminded him, "That's a bit more impressive than the usual examples of face-doodling."

"True. And Jax had to deal with this spoiled brat at a football camp who, among other crimes, peed in all the helmets."

Stein frowned. "Your… 'war stories'… are about _babysitting_?"

"Yes," Kendra replied calmly, "And clearly you've never babysat if you're that surprised. So, which one is worst?"

The Professor hummed, leaning against the doorframe as he considered the options. "Why, Ms. Saunders, did the child try to take his or her cat swimming?"

"Well, last I saw him before that, I'd sent him off to the bathroom to wash spaghetti sauce off his face. Maybe he thought that would be a fun way to do it?"

"I love eight-year-old logic," Sara muttered.

After a few more 'hmm's and 'well's, Stein came to his conclusion. "Well, ranked from least to worst, believe I would place the 'face-doodling' first, followed by the pool incident, the helmets, and the painting disaster."

"Hah!" Sara crowed.

"How are you defining worst?" Jax asked curiously.

"I am defining which is worst by the lasting impact. Drawings on a person can be washed off quickly, the boy who jumped in the pool would just need a change of clothes, but the cat would most certainly be in a horrid mood for at least a day, football helmets would eventually be replaced, and it would take a while for a bedroom to be repainted."

"All valid points," Snart agreed, not looking all that bothered by the fact that his story ranked last, "And can I just point out the irony that you ranked Lisa's antics as the most harmless, yet she's the one who grew up to be a criminal."

"Although I wouldn't be surprised if the football camp kid got himself a record when he got older," Kendra commented, "Hey, did I tell you guys about the girl who smuggled live cats into her house?"

THE END


End file.
